Far Far
by Permanent Rose
Summary: /Far, far, there's this little girl. She was praying for something to happen to her./ Maura reveals to Jane what she has never told anyone before about her years in boarding school. AU post 1.04. PERMANENT HIATUS
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: Inspired by the lovely Abby (girlplease). This story is AU after 1.04, She Works Hard for the Money._

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><p>"I should be leaving soon," Maura mutters, but she tugs the blanket closer to her as You've Got Mail plays quietly in the background. (Jane talked her out of a documentary―and Maura agreed long as she was the one to pick.) Beside her, Jane is beginning to doze, an empty wine glass resting loosely in her hand.<p>

"Hmm?" Jane asks, opening her eyes as she turns toward the blonde. She curls her knees to her chest, her dress pants rumbling beneath her. "You can stay if you want, Maur," she says, stifling a yawn as she nudges the throw pillow into a more comfortable position. The scent of the Chinese food they had for dinner still hangs heavily in the air.

"Maybe," Maura mutters in return, a little tipsy from her own wine, and very, very warm beneath her blanket. She already knows she'll be spending the night.

Maura savors these moments―she knows how fleeting friendship can be. As the credits roll on, she scoots closer to Jane, propping her stocking clad feet up in her lap. "I'll stay," she murmurs, letting her eyes close contently.

Jane wrinkles her nose in mock disgust, shoving Maura's feet off her lap. "Keep your gross feet to yourself," she whines, but a hint of amusement lines her tone.

"My feet are far from gross," Maura defends automatically, wiggling her toes in her nylons. "Besides showering on a daily basis, I also get a monthly pedicure. I'd wager your feet are much grosser than mine, Jane," she adds with an eyebrow raise.

"Rude, Maura," Jane huffs, looking down at her faded black socks.

"You were rude first," Maura reminds her, standing up from the couch as she grabs their empty wine glasses, bringing them over to the sink.

She follows Jane to her bedroom, sitting on the edge of the bed as Jane digs through her closet for two clean tees, tossing one in Maura's direction. Its so familiar, spending the night with Jane without reason, that Maura has to wonder when it will end. If life has taught her anything, she has learned that nothing is meant to last.

She thinks about Danielle again, young and ambitious―perhaps a little too ambitious―her life stripped away from her in merely seconds all because of a mistake.

Maura has made mistakes, too.

"Hey, you okay?" Jane asks, sitting down beside her on the bed in a Boston Marathon t-shirt and a pair of paint splattered boy shorts.

Maura nods, sighing after a moment beneath Jane's worried gaze. "Just thinking about Danielle." She tugs off her blouse and skirt, folding them neatly before reaching for the oversized tee Jane has provided for her.

"Yeah," Jane sighs sadly in return. "I keep thinking about her, too."

Maura crawls back onto the bed, finding Jane's eyes once again. Sometimes she feels so much more for this beautiful woman than she knows she should, and it makes her ache that she cannot tell her. But Maura is bad at relationships. They're the one thing she's quick and sloppy with, and Jane means so much more to her than that. As Jane snuggles up beside Maura, patting her arm lightly, Maura is certain that Jane is too much to lose and certainly not worth the risk.

Maura lets out a heavy sigh, letting her eyes close as Jane's subtle and seemingly insignificant touch comforts her. "You know..." Jane starts, her voice a little hesitant. "If you need to talk about anything, Maur, you know I'm here, right?" She can imagine Jane's concerned eyes all too well, and for a moment, Maura's throat feels tight, tears threatening to spill over as she appreciates the genuineness of her words.

"I'm fine, Jane," Maura mutters. Jane's hand now rests on her hip, and Maura takes her own, placing it on top of Jane's hand as she strokes it lightly with her thumb.

"You've just seemed a little off during this whole case," Jane contradicts, scooting closer as she takes on the position of the big spoon. She tucks her chin against Maura's shoulder, and Maura can feel her warm breath against her neck. It's moments like these that Maura is certain Jane feels something more for her, too.

But Jane is right. Maura has been off. She can usually handle these cases in a purely professional manner―it's what makes her so good at her job. But she's been a mess of emotions ever since the reason for Danielle's murder was discovered, and though she's managed to keep herself in check, of course Jane would be the one to notice the subtle differences.

She snuggles a little closer to Jane, for a moment marveling at just how perfectly her body fits into the curves of Jane's. She tightens her grip on Jane's hand, looking across the room at the beige wall as she speaks. "A lot happened," she pauses for a moment because her throat has become unbearably tight. "A lot happened when I went to school in France," she manages to choke out, her voice barely more than a whisper.

Jane's grip on her immediately tightens, followed by a sharp intake of breath. She's protective of Maura, and Maura suddenly feels her cheeks grow wet. It's been so very long since someone has cared.

"Tell me," Jane's voice is thick with the threat of tears as well. "Tell me what happened, Maura."

And for the first time, Maura does.


	2. Chapter 2

The city rushes by as Maura peers out the window of the cab, her fingers curled around the handle of her one small suitcase that rests on the floor, pressing up against her legs. Her stomach knots in an uncharacteristic manner, but she inhales a shallow breath, letting the familiarity of the city comfort her. In her short ten years of life, Maura has already been to Paris three times.

Beside her, Maura's father intently focuses on his novel, _Atlas __Shrugged, _which coincidentally Maura had devoured the previous week. On the other side of her father, Maura's mother flips through one of the local newspapers, tutting quietly as her eyes scan the words. Maura is too distracted to peer over her mother's shoulder, using her extensive knowledge of the French language to read along. As they pull in front of the prestigious school, Maura notices how much bleaker and foreboding it looks in person than on the friendly brochure. All of a sudden, Maura wants nothing more than to return home.

As the cab comes to a halt, Maura's mother folds the newspaper neatly, tucking it into her purse for later. Her father absentmindedly reaches for the door handle, lost in the world of literature as he keeps his nose buried in his book. Maura struggles to lift her suitcase, her arms burning as she stumbles across the stone walkway, glancing back at her disinterested parents as they approach the entrance to the school.

She places her suitcase down for a moment, giving her aching arms a break as she waits for her parents to catch up. Her father has tugged his eyes away from his novel, but he looks anxious to return to his uninterrupted reading as he keeps his page marked with his index finger. Her mother examines her nails as her handbag swings loosely by her side.

Maura watches the pair of them, her throat incredibly tight and her heart pounding furiously. Though it was her idea to attend Maison d'éducation de la Légion d'honneur―sending away for the brochure when she found out she was eligible because of her great-grandfather's military honors―Maura wants desperately for one of her parents to beg her to stay home. She doesn't think it is so terribly wrong to want to be wanted, but her father merely checks his watch before glancing down at Maura.

_Please,_ Maura silently begs him. _Please, __please, __please __bring __me __home._

"Ready?" he asks, smiling dutifully at his daughter.

Maura nods.

But she is anything but.

XXX

She can't sleep.

The breathing of the four other girls in Maura's suite pulse around her, their tossing and turning making it impossible for her to relax. She isn't used to having so many people nearby. At home, her mother, father and herself would all retreat to their own corners, gathering for a sporadic meal, or, even more rarely, to watch a documentary as a family.

She listens to the girls breathe heavily, a snore here and there, and with an irritated huff, she crawls out of bed, finding her slippers. She glances back at the girls as she reaches door―Sarah, sleeping closest to the window, Molly by the door, and Elise and Marguerite in between. Maura has always been good with names, despite how awkward she can be in social situations. It's like classifying organism―each person may be a _homo __sapiens,_but she views each person's name as a way to even further classify them.

The halls are so unfamiliar that is makes her ache for home once again, and as she rounds a dark corner, catching glimpses of the gothic décor, she wishes she would've brought a flashlight. She shivers slightly beneath her thin nightgown as she nears the end of the hall, moonlight pooling across the carpeted floor as it streams through the window. She leans against the window sill, letting out a world weary sigh as she gazes out at the night sky.

_It __will __be __okay,_she reminds herself. It always has been.

She's startled when she hears the floor creak behind her, and she wheels around in a panic, certain she'll be scolded for being out of bed so late. But she locks her eyes with a pair of blue orbs that look just as startled as she does.

The girl is older than she is. She's tall and well-built, though certainly not heavy. Her blonde hair is messy, strands poking out of her braids. Maura guesses she's German, and when she speaks, though in French, her accent confirms it. "_Que __faites-vous __sortir __du __lit_?"

"_Ich __kann __nicht __schlafen_," Maura answers her in German, testing her hypothesis.

The girl looks shocked for a moment, licking her lips hesitantly before she speaks. "I can't sleep, either." She looks expectantly at Maura, and Maura can only assume she's playing her game as well―guessing her nationality based off her accent.

Maura offers her a small smile, wondering if perhaps she has formed an alliance, the word _friend _such a foreign concept to Maura that she doesn't even let her mind entertain the idea.

"I'm Hattie," the girl tells her, tucking a stray blonde hair behind her ear.

"I'm Maura." Her smile only grows, and with a burst of optimism, she dares to hope.

XXX

"Hummingbirds are the only bird that can hover, and fly backwards as well as straight up or down," Maura states in an offhand manner as she lays on the soft grass, squinting her eyes against the dull autumn sun as a hummingbird flits by to a nearby peony. She and Hattie are out by the lake, their school books open but forgotten as they have become distracted by the beautiful surrounding and pleasant weather.

"Is that so?" Hattie smiles at Maura, plopping down on her back on the grass beside Maura. "How do you know so much?" she marvels, as she does each time Maura spouts off a random fact.

Maura's cheeks turn pink as she turns her head to face Hattie. She notices that Hattie's left eye is swollen―its not the first time that something about her appearance has seemed off, but Maura does not question her, knowing that if Hattie wished to talk she would offer.

"I like to read," Maura answers her question with a shrug.

"A lot of people like to read, but they don't remember things like you do," Hattie raises an eyebrow, specks of gold shining through her blonde hair in the sunlight. "You're special, Maura."

Maura's cheeks have now turned crimson. She reaches for Hattie's hand, resting limply beside her. "Thank you," she mutters, wishing she could express to Hattie just how much those words mean to her

Hattie laces her fingers through Maura's, smiling at over at her. "There's no need to thank me―I'm only stating what's true." And with a hint of protectiveness in her tone, she adds. "Don't let anyone ever tell you anything else, my little hummingbird."


	3. Chapter 3

"Hattie was my first real friend," Maura states with a faint smile, looking down at Jane's hand intertwined in her own. She can't quite recall when Jane reached for her hand, but it brings her comfort.

She finds Jane's eyes when she doesn't speak, a look of concern plastered across Jane's face. "Why do you keep looking at me like that?" Maura mutters, keeping her hand nestled in Jane's.

"Like what?" Jane defends, attempting to change her expression, but the look of worry is still there.

"Like you're expecting me to tell you the worst," Maura gulps, shyly averting her gaze as she turns away from Jane.

"Well, Maur, I kind of am expecting the worst," Jane mutters. Maura chews on her lower lip.

She looks back at Jane, her eyes pooling with the love and concern that Maura has so rarely received in her life. Once again, her own heart aches, her love for Jane something so inexplicable and hard for her to comprehend. Jane squeezes her hand gently, reminding her she's here for her. Maura takes in a shaky breath, her eyes wandering from Jane's eyes to her lips for a brief moment, vaguely contemplating what they would feel like beneath her own.

She sits up abruptly, yanking her hand away from Jane's. "M-maybe," she stutters (something Maura Isles rarely does. She's so used to being sure of herself.) "Maybe I'm not ready to talk about this after all." She gulps in a breath, running her tongue against her lower lip. She tugs at the hem of the t-shirt Jane let her borrow, glancing at the dresser top where her own clothes are neatly folded.

"Maur..." Jane says, at a loss for words, as she reaches for Maura.

"I need to go, Jane," she says, hastily throwing on her skirt and putting on her shoes.

"Wait, Maura!" Jane follows her to the door. Maura can hear the panic and slightly hurt tone in her voice, but she doesn't turn back. "I'm sorry!" Jane desperately pleads as Maura swiftly unlocks the door.

"No, I'm sorry, Jane," Maura sighs, locking her gaze with Jane's once more before she clicks the door shut.

XXX

The next morning, Maura calls in sick, something she can vaguely recall doing only one other time. It's very hard for her to fabricate even a simple lie, but she manages to spit it out because the alternative option of going to work after the way she behaved last night is even less appealing.

She lies in bed, still wearing the shirt Jane let her borrow. It smells like her―a hint of Dove body wash, a hint of Suave sea breeze shampoo, and a scent that Maura can't quite identify but she only associates it with Jane. She lets out a sigh, staring aimlessly at the ceiling, startled when he cell phone begins to vibrate loudly.

Jane's name flashes across the screen, and for a moment, she's tempted to silence it, but instead she lets out a sigh and answers with a timid, "Hi."

"Maura, where the hell are you?" Jane's voice is an octave too high as she screeches through the receiver.

"I'm, well," she pauses for a moment, the word 'sick' refusing to leave her lips. "I'm not at work."

"Oh, wow, I would've never guessed, Dr. Obvious," Jane spits into the phone. Maura winces, hating that she is the reason that Jane is so upset.

"I'm sick?" she squeaks, the lie unconvincing to even herself.

"Yep, I'm totally buying that, Maura," Jane says in a huff. "I don't know what I did, but I'd sure as hell appreciate it if you'd talk to me."

Maura swallows again, gripper her phone a little tighter. "I just need some time alone."

"Fine. Enjoy your solitude, Dr. Isles."

Maura keeps the disconnected phone to her ear for a full five minutes before she manages to pry it away.

XXX

By early evening, Maura has made Bass three meticulously crafted salads, none of which he particularly favored. The scent of raw vegetables hangs heavily in the kitchen as Maura wipes down the countertop. She checks her phone for the umpteenth time, but yet again, there is no message from Jane. She hardly expects one, so she does not know why she continues to check.

She plops down on the couch, hoping to find an intriguing documentary, but nothing seems appealing when all she can think of is Jane. She sighs heavily as she picks up her phone, looking at Jane's number with her thumb hanging precariously over the call button, but instead she scrolls through her contacts until she pauses on familiar name.

It rings three times before a husky male voice answers on the other line. "Maura?"

"Peter," Maura mutters, absentmindedly flicking a piece of fuzz off the couch. Her relationship with him had been as playful and brief as their sporadic hookups in the following years.

"Is everything okay, Maura?" he asks politely. After all, it has been ages since they last contacted each other.

"I..." but Maura is at a loss for words. She's trying to grasp onto something familiar―Maura always knows what she wants, but now she is left flailing.

"Why don't you come over to my place in a bit?"

She nods, sucking in a breath. This is familiar territory, even though it leaves her with a pit in her stomach.

XXX

She pretends to orgasm when she has had enough, collapsing against Peter's bare chest with a final, satisfied moan. _See, __Jane, __I __can __lie ,_she finds herself thinking, a somewhat smug smile tugging at her lips. Of course she would think of Jane while she's lying naked on top of man she just crudely fucked. The color quickly drains from her face.

Peter reaches for her hair, gently running his fingers through her sweaty locks. "I miss you, babe," he murmurs.

She captures his lips hastily in hers to avoid answering. He cups her face, kissing her for a little while longer before his eyelids flutter shut. Maura waits patiently until she is quite certain he has reached the fourth stage of the sleep cycle, quietly crawling out of bed as she gathers her articles of clothing flung haphazardly across the room. She holds her breath as the door creaks slightly upon her exit, but Peter merely grunts and rolls over, continuing to sleep deeply.

She quickly tugs her clothing on in the hallway, grabbing her purse she left tossed aside from the door. She digs for her car keys, holding her breath until she is safely out the door.

Once she is home, she collapses against her bed, staring up at the ceiling once again. As she turns her head, she sees Jane's shirt, which she had folded neatly and placed atop her nightstand earlier this morning.

In a rush, without considering the consequences, she dials Jane's number from memory, listening to the shrill ring. She's surprised when a groggy voice answers. "Maura?"

"You answered," Maura says simply.

"Yeah, well, calls at two o'clock in the morning usually mean that something is wrong, and I wouldn't want you to die or something thinking that I was mad at you." She can hear the faint smile in Jane's voice, and all at once Maura knows she does not deserve a friend like Jane.

"But aren't you mad?" Maura contradicts. "The tone of your voice and your word choice this morning clearly indic-"

"Maura," Jane cuts her off. They both suck in a breath simultaneously. "Yeah, I was kind of pissed earlier, but now I'm just frustrated. I want to be here for you, but you're making that damn hard for me."

"Can I come over?" Maura questions in return, and adds, "I've always thrived on independence, so it's hard for me to admit when I need someone...but I need you, Jane." Maura feels very vulnerable as she states this, holding her breath as she waits for Jane's reply.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. You already woke me up so you might as well just keep me up too," Jane jokes, but she can sense the sincerity in Jane's voice.

Maura's heart swells. "I'll be over soon."


	4. Chapter 4

Maura shifts in the cushioned chair, her stiff skirt wrinkling beneath her thighs. She licks her dry lips, taking an uneasy look at the man sitting behind the desk across from her.

"Maura Isles?" he confirms, taking off his glasses and placing them on his desk.

Maura nods, timidly speaking. "Yes, Headmaster Rousseu." He's a well built, middle-aged man, balding slightly, but he has a kind face. Maura knows he is a retired military general, tracing his lineage back to the founders of the school.

"And you do know fist fights are strictly prohibited on school grounds?" he raises and eyebrow. Maura shifts again, hanging her head in shame, only to see the blood on her knuckles from the blow she delivered to the older girl's face.

Maura merely nods again, frightened by his authority-frightened that her misconduct will lead to a punishment graver than a lecture. And the one thing that frightens Maura most is being sent home because she cannot bear the thought of losing Hattie. "Yes, sir."

"You do not strike me as the type of girl to engage in such conduct," he adds with another eyebrow raise.

"No, sir," she mutters, peeking up at his face. "Anger causes an adrenal response that often prompts a person to act impulsively," she adds, her voice barely more than a whisper.

A faint, almost unnoticeable smile tugs at his face, seemingly amused by her response. "And why were you so angry, Ms. Isles?"

Maura thinks back to the situation that happened a mere fifteen minutes ago. She and Hattie were leaving the dining hall together, when Hattie had stopped, glancing warily at two other fourth year girls approaching. Maura had seen the girls before―Amber, the tall, leggy American brunette, and Antoinette the petite French blonde, both snobby and condescending toward the other girls.

Antoinette looked at Hattie with an expression of pure disgust as she passed by. "Whore," she hissed, spitting out the vile word.

A rage that Maura had never experienced before boiled within her, and before she even had time to consider the consequences of her actions, her fist had already made contact with Antoinette's nose. Maura had watched the blood pour down the girl's pale face, horrified by her actions, yet strangely satisfied at the same time. A teacher, hearing Antoinette's screams, had quickly pulled Maura away and brought the two down to the headmaster's office. After speaking briefly with the headmaster herself, the teacher sent Maura in.

"Antoinette―the girl I...hit," she winces even as she says the words. "She called my friend Hattie a dirty name, and I reacted before I could consider my actions," Maura tries to explain. "When someone insults someone you care about, you want to protect them," she gulps, her wide eyes finding his once again. She doesn't know how he will choose to punish her, and she knows her explanations are useless. After all, discipline tends to be black and white―and black and white is what Maura is accustomed to dealing with. The emotions she feels regarding her relationship with Hattie are as unfamiliar to her as the blood on her hand.

"You must really care about her," the headmaster mutters, his words surprising Maura. "You seem like a very special girl, Maura," he adds, causing Maura to jerk her head up in surprise. "I'd like to see you again in my office later this week."

She nods quickly in return, a little unsure why she has not been punished.

"But do me a favor and let's just keep it between the two of us," he states, giving Maura a glance in return.

She nods again, an odd feeling settling her stomach as she exits the office.

XXX

"You're lucky he let you off with just a warning," Hattie mutters as she braids Maura's hair later that evening.

Maura nods, the motion causing her to tug against the braid.

"You didn't need to do that for me, Maura," Hattie adds, tying Maura's hair with a ribbon before turning to face her.

"It made me angry when she called you...that," Maura mumbles, hating to repeat the word.

"I know, my little hummingbird," Hattie sighs, brushing a flyaway strand of hair behind Maura's ear. "But you mustn't let her words get to you."

"It's just hard―to hear her say things like that," Maura mutters, curling her fingers around Hattie's.

"There are things that are worse than being a whore," Hattie says quietly in response. "I know in America, you view things differently than we do here. Here women make all kinds of arrangements with men, and both parties get what they need."

"She still shouldn't call you that," Maura defends, though Hattie's words leave her mouth feeling dry.

"Stop worrying about it," Hattie scolds, finding Maura's eyes and giving her a stern look.

Maura nods.

"It's getting late. You should probably head over to your own room," Hattie says, kissing Maura's forehead lightly. "Goodnight, my little hummingbird."

Maura says goodnight in return, heading quietly down the flight of steps to her own room. She fingers her braid, still worrying, despite Hattie's request.

XXX

"Maura Isles, how lovely to see you again," Headmaster Rousseu smiles as Maura takes a seat across from him once again.

"You too, Headmaster," she says dutifully in response, unsure of the exact reason as to why she is here. But as promised, she kept their meeting to herself, telling Hattie that she needed to study by herself this evening, even the simple lie hard for her to force from her lips.

"I've been pondering our previous meeting, and as you have most likely gathered, I have decided not to punish you for your misdemeanor," he tells her. "But I would like to meet with you on a weekly basis, if you should find the time. As I mentioned last time, I believe you to be a very special girl, Maura, and I would hate to see such talent go to waste if you do continue to get caught up in incidents like this again."

Maura nods, the compromise seeming more than fair. She wonders what these meetings will consist of, but before she can asks, Headmaster Rousseu speaks again. "Do you play chess, Ms. Isles?"

He glances at a beautifully crafted set across the room. Maura follows his gaze, her eyes widening with excitement, though she answers with quote a different tone, "No, sir." Maura has only read books about this strategic game, but she has never had the opportunity to play.

He raises an eyebrow, taking a moment to register her reaction. "But I presume you know the rules?"

"Yes, sir," she says, glancing at the board again. "I know how to play. I've just never had the chance." She tried not to sound too excited. She waited years for her father to offer to her what Headmaster Rousseu is offering in merely days of becoming acquainted.

"I'd be honored if you'd play with me then, Ms. Isles," the headmaster smiles, a twinkle in his eyes.

Maura matches his smile. "I'd love to."

XXX

"Checkmate," Maura says smugly, propping herself up on her knees as she reaches across the board, knocking Headmaster Rousseu's queen gracefully off the board. It's the third week she's met with him, and she's already dominating the game.

"I believe that's three out of three for you, Maura," he praises, making a useless move before bowing his king down in defeat.

Maura beams, her hands eagerly reaching for the pieces once again.

"I hate to end this, Maura, but it's getting quite late. I don't want to keep you past bedtime," he respectfully tells her. "Perhaps next week we can read some Dickens?" he offers, and Maura nods enthusiastically.

"Thank you, sir," she smiles at him, a warm feeling settling in her stomach as he smiles back just as broadly.

XXX

"My little hummingbird, I'd almost forgotten what your face looks like," Hattie teases her as Maura enters her room, toting her school books along with her. "I swear you've been avoiding me," she says in a lighthearted manner, but Maura can sense the truth in her words. She has been spending a lot of time with the headmaster lately.

"I've just been busy," Maura defends, sitting down on the edge of Hattie's bed. She hates that she has to lie to her, but the Headmaster is adamant about keeping their relationship between the two of them. "I've missed you, too," she adds as she opens up her chemistry book.

"Just as long as you aren't getting yourself into any trouble," Hattie smiles down at her. "I guess I'm just jealous of your studies and all the time they get to spend with you," Hattie winks at her.

"You're ridiculous," Maura laughs, realizing just how much she misses spending time with Hattie. "You know I'll always love you best."

"I hope so," Hattie laughs along.

Never in her life can Maura remember being happier.

XXX

It's late when she knocks hesitantly on Hattie's door, so she is surprised to find Hattie up, her hair matted in sweat and her nightgown damp from clinging to her body.

"What are you doing here?" she asks quietly, trying not to wake the other girls in her suite.

"I couldn't sleep," Maura mutters, reminded of the first night she met Hattie. It already feels like eons ago. "I had a bad dream," she further explains, feeling small and vulnerable as she says the words.

"Come tell me about it," Hattie offers, a weary smile on her face as she sits down on the edge of the bed, patting the space beside her as she motions for Maura to join her.

"It's silly, really," Maura whispers, but she can't shake the terrible feeling the dream has left her with. "I dreamed that you were gone."

"Silly, Maura, I'm right here," Hattie reminds her, reaching for her hand. "I will always be here for you."

XXX

"I don't believe I've ever met a ten year old girl who has read as much as you," Headmaster Rousseu states pridefully as Maura recites a poem by Poe.

"Almost eleven," Maura pipes up, completely at ease with the headmaster. She looks forward to her visits almost as much as she enjoys spending time with Hattie. "My birthday is nine days."

The headmaster smiles thoughtfully. "Even so, I believe you are quite the genius for your age, Maura." He looks down at his watch. "Oh my, I've completely lost track of time." He looks slightly uneasy for a moment, but he quickly composes himself. "Think of something you'd like to read next time. Have a good night, Maura."

"You too, Headmaster," Maura smiles, placing the poetry booklet back on his desk on her way out the door.

She's humming softly to herself, slightly distracted as she reaches the corner, only to bump into a figure headlong.

"Hattie!" she shrieks in surprise, stepping back. "I'm sorry." She smiles up at Hattie, but Hattie does not smile in return. Instead, she looks concerned.

"Where did you just come from, Maura?" she asks, her voice sharp and filled with panic.

"Just down the hall." It is not a lie, but Maura feels her heart accelerate from Hattie's tone.

"Were you in Headmaster Rousseu's office?" Hattie presses on. Maura gulps, looking down at her feet, her allegiances torn. "Damn it, Maura, answer me!"

Hattie grabs Maura's arm, and Maura jerks her head up in surprise. "Yes," she says softly. "Hattie, what's wrong?"

"For how long, Maura? Was it only tonight? Please don't tell me this is where you've been going every time you tell me you need to study on your own..." Hattie's voice cracks on the last word.

The color drains from Maura's face. "What's wrong with visiting him? He says I'm special..." Maura trails off, defending herself, still thoroughly confused by Hattie's reaction.

"Jesus, Maura. What else has he told you? What else has he done?" Hattie's close to tears now, and Maura feels her throat tighten as well, though she doesn't know why. Hattie cups Maura's face gently with her right palm. "Tell me what he's done to you, Maura."

"We just play chess. And read books. He tells me I'm clever," Maura mutters, her knees shaking a little. She finds Hattie's eyes.

Hattie lets out a long sigh, looking slightly relieved. "I need you to stop, Maura. Promise me you'll stop."

A rush of anger courses through Maura for a moment. She pulls away from Hattie. "Why should I stop? He's good to me, Hattie," she explains. "He praises me. He makes me feel like I'm worth something. Not even my father does that."

"Oh you think he loves you, do you Maura? Please, just take my word for it. Don't see him again, and don't ever, ever let yourself think he can replace your father," she emphasizes.

Outside, the bell tower chimes eleven. Hattie looks uneasy, glancing down the hall. "I need to go," she mutters. "Go straight to bed, Maura. We can talk more tomorrow," she promises.

"Wait, where are you going?" Maura begins to follow Hattie down the hall. "Your room is the other way."

"Go to bed, Maura," Hattie says roughly.

Maura is hurt by her words―hurt by their entire conversation tonight. She glowers at the older girl, but Hattie merely fidgets, glancing down the hall again. And suddenly it dawns on Maura. "You're going to see him, too, aren't you?" she accuses, the hurt settling deeper.

"Hush, Maura. Please just go to bed," Hattie responds, not denying her words.

"No, Hattie. You cannot tell me what to do," Maura feels the answer rising in her chest. "Why can you see him and I cannot? Do you want him all for yourself?" she begins to accuse Hattie wildly. "Does he make you promise not to tell anyone you're seeing him too?" All at once a new sort of hurt settles in Maura's gut, realizing that perhaps Headmaster Rousseu has been lying to her all along. How many other girls does he invite down? How many other girls does he call special?

"Maura, stop," Hattie hisses, finding Maura's gaze again. "Trust me, you want to stop seeing him while you still can."

Maura opens her mouth, but she stops, fully comprehending Hattie's words for the first time. "Why are you visiting him, Hattie?"

"You should go to bed," Hattie avoids her question.

"No, Hattie, I want to know. Or else I'll go down to his office and as him myself."

Hattie's eyes are wild with fear for a brief moment. She glances down the hall once again. "I didn't want you to find out like this, Maura," she sighs. "I didn't want you to find out at all."

Maura's heart is racing. She can't bring herself to question Hattie any further, though suddenly all of Hattie's unexplained frenzied appearances are beginning to make sense.

"Last year, I had a bit of a rough patch after my father died," Hattie mutters. "My grades plummeted, and I lost my scholarship. Headmaster Rousseu was kind enough to come up with an...arrangement, though, that has allowed me to to continue to study here."

Maura feels sick for a moment, her mind flashing to the man she has grown so fond of. She then looks up at Hattie. "I thought you..." she can't even finish her sentence. Can't even remember what she meant to say.

"I know what I've said in the past," Hattie gulps. "I can deal with my arrangement," she clarifies. "But I could _never _let that happen to you."

"But its not like that," Maura weakly defends, still in shock, still in denial.

"I know, Maura. I know," Hattie says, her voice course with tears. "And I am so thankful for that. But I know what he's capable of―I know how he can play with words, play with your insecurities so he can get what he wants. He's a sick, twisted man, and I want you far away from him."

"I want you away from him, too," Maura responds, finally coming to her senses. She feels like a gaping hole has been torn through her chest, but Hattie is much more important to her than Headmaster Rousseu could ever be.

Hattie's eyes are full of anguish. Maura reaches for her hand again. "Please don't let him, Hattie. There has to be another way. Please, Hattie."

"My little hummingbird." Hattie's cheeks are stained with tears. "My sweet little Maura, you mustn't worry about me. My education is important―and I know you can appreciate the value of that. This is a small price to pay for the benefits I will reap in the future."

"Hattie," Maura chokes, tears pouring down her cheeks too. "Please don't go in there."

"I have to," Hattie says sadly. "We all must make sacrifices, but I want you to promise you'll never make this one. I need to know you'll be safe, Maura."

Maura nods, Hattie's form growing blurry as her tears persist.

"Go get some sleep," Hattie insists, already edging down the hall. Maura feels helpless as she watches Hattie disappear behind the door Maura had left only moments before.

But instead of going to bed, Maura wearily sits down in the hall, wiping her wet cheeks. The least she can do it wait for her friend.


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N: Another flashback chapter. It just worked a little better than switching back to the present quite yet. Thanks so much for all your feedback so far. I really appreciate it :)_

* * *

><p>Maura arches her back against the hot stream of water spewing from the shower head, relieving the tension in her aching muscles. She is so very tired, and she has difficulty remembering the last time she has had a proper night sleep.<p>

She turns around, closing her eyes as she lets the water pour down her face. A sob tears through her, and she reaches for the shower wall, supporting her body weight with her arm as she tries not to fall. When was the last time she even took a shower? What homework must she complete for tomorrow? She doesn't remember these things either.

It's so hard to take care of herself when she spends all her time worrying about the person she loves most.

XXX

She's nodding off against the wall when she hears shuffling footsteps approach her. She rubs her eyes, her throat tightening when she sees Hattie's tear streaked face with a fresh slap mark across her cheek. He always hits her when she cries.

"Maura," Hattie chokes. "You have to stop waiting for me. You have to stop." She begins to cry harder.

Maura rises to her feet, saying nothing as she wraps her arms around Hattie's shaking form. She finds Hattie's hand, leading her toward her room.

"You have to stop taking care of me," Hattie wipes her eyes, her knees quivering. Maura hates to see her in so much pain.

"I love you," Maura says fiercely, the first time Maura has ever uttered the phrase not out of duty, letting Hattie know that she's not going anywhere.

She quietly opens the door to Hattie's room, being careful not to wake the other girls. After helping Hattie into bed, she settles down beside her, stroking Hattie's tangled, sweaty hair until she falls asleep.

XXXX

"Well, well, well if it isn't Maura Isles," Headmaster Rousseu eyes light up in a way that make Maura's stomach churn as she enters the familiar office. She has not been in here since the night Hattie fervently pleaded with her to stay away, and she is surprised (and a little hurt though her conscious thoughts deny this) that he has not called for her. "And where might Ms. Schultz be that you were able to escape from her watchful eye?"

Maura looks up sharply at the mention of Hattie's name, never hating anyone as much as she does the vile man sitting before her.

"Ah, did she not tell you?" the headmaster says playfully.

"Tell me what?" Maura spits. "What else are you doing to her?" She stands up to her full height, wanting nothing more than to hurt him as much as he has hurt her.

"I've missed seeing you, as you can probably imagine―I enjoy your company, but Ms. Schultz was quite adamant when she told me that she did not want me to see you again. Imagine my disappointment, sweet Maura―but she offered to come twice as often to visit me if I'd let you be," his eyes gleam maniacally, and Maura wonders what she ever saw in him.

"No," Maura's knees buckle. "No―she didn't. No..."

"But that is beside the point, Ms. Isles. What brings you here today?" He brushes off the previous topic as if they were merely discussing the weather.

Maura sits back down, feeling faint. She knows very well why she came down here―to plead with him, to beg him to stop, to ask him to take her instead of Hattie. But the words remain stuck between her dry lips. She looks down at her shoes, licking her lips tentatively.

"Second guessing yourself, Ms. Isles?" he mutters with a faint grin. "Because I know very well why you are here." She looks at him sharply. He rises, circling around his desk, taking a strand of Maura's honey colored hair in his grasp. Maura stops breathing. "You're very pretty―and I cannot wait to see how age will favor you." He drops her curl, moving his pointer finger to her chin, tilting her head toward his. "But if I take you instead, then I'm afraid Ms. Schultz will have to go...you can't pay for her," he mutters thoughtfully, pulling his hand away from Maura's face.

Maura bites her lip.

"Of course, then she would be safe," he adds. Maura bites down harder, tasting blood. "But she would not be here. And we both know you want that, Maura," he concludes, sitting back down behind his desk. "We aren't so very different, now are we?" Maura feels the skin break beneath her teeth. She doesn't dare look at him. "Selfish, even when it comes to what we love."

Maura rises from her seat again, her tiny body quivering with anger. "You don't love her!" she spits. "You don't love her at all."

He responds with only a faint chuckle. She opens her mouth, but a strangled sob only escapes from her lips. She leaves in a frenzy, furiously wiping away her tears, knowing that every word he has said is true.

XXX

"Where were you?" Hattie says sharply, finding Maura in her room.

"Must I always tell you everything?" Maura spits back just as sharply, glad her tears have run their course.

"I'm sorry," Hattie's face softens. She sits beside Maura, beginning to gently rub her back. "I'm just scared, Maura. Scared for you...scared for myself. And I hate that you're a part of all this now," Hattie says, her voice heavy with guilt.

"Don't, Hattie. Just...don't," she sighs, falling back against her pillow, beginning to cry again.

"It's hardly fair what I'm doing to you," Hattie's voice cracks as she speaks.

_No, _Maura fiercely berates herself. _It's __hardly __fair __what __I __am __doing __to __you._

XXX

"...and that girl she spends all her time with-"

"The pretty blonde one?"

"Yes, that's the one. I've heard she's Headmaster Rousseu's _whore_..."

Maura stands in the doorway, aware that Molly and Marguerite are oblivious to her presence.

"You know, people typically close the door before they gossip," Maura says in a huff as she enters the room. She's hardly ever rude or spiteful, but her anger and frustration have been seeping out into her behavior lately.

"Maura!" Molly exclaims in surprise. Marguerite blushes furiously.

"Maura, I'm-" Molly begins, her face soft and apologetic.

"Don't," Maura spits, leaving the room once again, inevitable tears spilling down her face once again, because apparently crying's about the only thing she's good at anymore.

She hasn't seen Hattie in nearly three days now, one of her roommates always informing her that she is not there every time she stops by, and Maura has to wonder if her harsh mannerisms from their last encounter has caused Hattie to avoid her.

She begins to walk toward the library, but she ends up at the door to Hattie's room instead, crossing her arms tightly across her chest after she had knocked.

"Maura..." one of her roommates, Cordelia, a tall, dark-haired girl answers, blocking the door with her body, looking annoyed.

Maura keeps her feet planted firmly on the ground.

"She's not here."

She hears a shuffling from behind the door. "Cor..." the voice is soft and full of pain. Hattie. "Let her in."

Cordelia looks back behind her shoulder. "Are you sure?"

Maura assumes Hattie has nodded, because Cordelia dutifully answers the door, stepping away to let Maura answer. Hattie is curled up in bed, her face pale and clammy. Maura's stomach churns, the wind knocked out of her when notices the sheets are tinted a shade of reddish brown.

Blood.

"Hattie!" she rushes to her friend's side in a rush of panic, her mind trying to comprehend the cause of Hattie's ailment. Hattie clenches her abdomen, and it doesn't take long for Maura to self diagnose her. "Why," she pauses to gulp in breath. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Hattie winces, and Maura's heart breaks to see her like this. "I didn't even know...until I started bleeding," Hattie whispers. "And then I didn't want to worry you...I've already burdened you with so much."

"How long?" Maura asks, brushing Hattie's hair away from her forehead.

"Just a few days now. It just got bad today...really bad," she motions to the blood on her sheets that have soaked through her clothing and protection. "How long does a miscarriage last?" Hattie asks, finding Maura's eyes.

At age fourteen, Hattie should not be losing a child, and at eleven, Maura should not know the logistics behind it. "A week to two weeks, at the longest," she states, her lips dry. "But the blood flow will vary...and if it gets any worse than this, you should probably see a doctor..."

Hattie's eyes grow wide with fear, and Maura reaches to squeeze her hand. "It's all going to be okay."

Hattie manages a weak smile. "Thank you, Maura. For everything."

XXX

"Can I see her again?" Maura asks, knocking impatiently on Hattie's door once again.

Cordelia answers, chewing nervously on her lip. "Maura...it quite bad last night. She fainted from the loss of blood...I had to tell someone," Cordelia's eyes are apologetic. "She's at the hospital right now."

"Which hospital? How long is she going to be there? Has she been admitted?" Maura asks in frenzy, desperate to be by Hattie's side once again and angry that she ever left it.

"Calm down, Maura, she'll be fine," Cordelia tries to assure her, her voice soft and soothing. "You'll see her soon."

Except she does not.


End file.
